


Some Things Don't Change

by ceeba



Series: Post Break-Up Fic [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Post-Break Up, Short and probably really silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6739333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceeba/pseuds/ceeba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the prompt “i still have your sister’s scarf and i know it’s stupid but i’ve been hoping maybe one day you’ll come by and pick it up so we’ll be forced to talk again because i haven’t seen you in months and i’m maybe kinda sorta still in love with you” from this post: http://thehalcyonclubwritingprompts.tumblr.com/post/132518177311/post-breakup-aus (obviously changed to brother ;) )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Don't Change

Sam’s scarf is still sitting on Cas’ side table. It’s been there for months and Sam is probably wondering where it is. Cas could easily pick up the phone and call Sam, tell him he has it, arrange to meet up and give it back. They were friends once, and Dean had made it clear that he wouldn’t ask either of them to _stop_ being friends. Except they hadn’t talked since the break up and Cas didn’t feel right about being in contact with Sam but not Dean, even with the permission.

Most of all, though, he’s just kind of been waiting for Dean to come and get it himself.

It’s just – he hasn’t seen Dean in _months_ and it hurts. Just a simple exchange of things they left at each others places, just to talk to him about mundane things – Cas doesn’t care, he just wants to be near Dean again.

 

He gets too drunk and passes out on the couch. When he wakes up he has a near-empty bottle of Dean’s favorite whiskey lying on the floor beside him. _God, I’m pathetic,_ he thinks. He groans and sits up carefully, taking deep breaths to fight off the nausea. He catches the scarf out of the corner of his eye and he wants to cry again.

Cas reaches for his phone, lying face down beside the bottle. He has to call Sam, he can’t have this sitting here anymore, not if it ends up with him face down in his living room in last night’s clothes. He swipes his phone open and freezes when he sees a string of messages waiting for him.

_03.03. Dean Winchester:_ what?

_03.22. Dean Winchester:_ Cas??

_03.23. Dean Winchester:_ u ok?

_03.54. Dean Winchester:_ srsly cas whats goin on?

_Shit shit shit_ , Cas thinks. What did he do? He scrolls up the conversation and then he has to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop from throwing up or crying or _something_.

He drunken texted Dean. He got black out drunk and _texted his ex_. He’s every stereotypical pining idiot from every rom com ever.

_Gt sms scrf,_ the first message reads, followed by a _u shd xpm ft it,_ which, god only knows what that was supposed to say. Finally, he had topped it off with an elegant _u mz u cm home_ which he thinks probably means he wants Dean to come home. Which, true, but _Dean_ doesn’t need to know that.

He’s just trying to come up with some smooth save and brush this all under the rug when the doorbell rings. He frowns – it’s seven am, who the hell is that? He racks his brain, did he have breakfast plans? When the doorbell goes again, he figures it must be Gabriel. Cas’ big brother doesn’t have much tact.

Cas stumbles to the hallway and towards the front door, rubbing at his eyes. God, he’s queasy. He pulls it open, ready to give his idiot brother yet another speech about boundaries but stops short, gaping at his visitor.

Dean is standing at the door in just a t shirt and jeans which is odd in itself considering he rarely leaves the house without six hundred layers on. He looks vaguely panicked and sighs – in relief? – when Cas opens the door.

“Jesus Christ, Cas,” he says, visibly deflating. He looks Cas up and down and then he’s frowning again. “You look like shit.”

Cas makes a vaguely offended noise. “What are – did you come here to tell me I look terrible? Because I hate to steal your thunder but I already knew that.”

Dean huffs a laugh, shifting awkwardly. “No, I just – are you ok? You sent me some really weird messages in the middle of the night and usually you’re so anal about capital letters and punctuation and shit and I guess I kind of just… panicked? Maybe? A little?” he finishes sheepishly.

And now it makes sense, Dean being here. Those messages were weird and he’s never drunken texted anyone before in his life, not even Dean when they were together, so it isn’t surprising that they worried him. “I was drunk,” he blurts, cringing.

“You were – you were _drunk_?” Dean asks, disbelieving. “You _drunken messaged_ me at _three o clock in the morning?_ ”

Cas flinches. “Yes?”

Dean stares at him for a moment before he throws his head back and laughs, loud and uninhibited. “Fucking hell, Cas, thought you were _dead_ ,” he says, gesturing behind Cas and into the house. “Invite me in then you dork, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

Cas steps to one side, dazed, and lets Dean march into the house towards the sitting room. He closes the door and follows, still trying to comprehend what was happening. By the time he gets back into the sitting room, Dean is making himself comfortable on one of the couches like he never even left. _Like he never even fucking left_.

He nods at the bottle on the floor and raises his eyebrows at Cas. “Wild night, huh?”

Cas grunts. Awareness is slowly creeping back to him as he leans against his side table and watches Dean. “Did you – did you come all the way over here because you were worried about me?”

“No!” Dean scoffs, far too quickly. Cas presses his lips together to keep from smiling. “S’not like it’s far, anyway. I’m still, uh, still staying at Sam’s.”

This was news to Cas. When Dean had moved out, he had told Cas he’d be staying with Sam for a bit. He didn’t realize “a bit” meant half a year.

Dean flushes, embarrassed. “He has a spare room. I didn’t see the point in finding a place in case – well, doesn’t matter. Guess I should be looking now.”

“In case what?” Cas asks.

Dean looks back at him pleadingly and Cas drops it, not wanting to push his luck. _Dean is here_ , no point running him out the door before they even get a chance to talk. “I’m gonna put some coffee on, you want some?”

Nodding gratefully, Dean gets up and follows Cas through to the kitchen. “I waited until what I thought was a reasonable hour before I came ‘round, guess it’s still pretty early.”

“Have you been awake this whole time?”

“Cas, man, what part of me being convinced you were dead aren’t you getting?” Dean asks seriously.

Cas wants to say something childish and petulant like _what would you care if I was dead_ but the thought itself is too ridiculous to consider. It’s not like they fought and ended things on bad terms. It just… happened. Nobody did anything wrong, nobody hurt anybody, it was just one of those things where they didn’t have the energy to work on something that was seemingly already dead. Of _course_ Dean would care if something happened to him, as he would if something happened to Dean.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t even know I had texted you until I woke up.”

“Huh. That bad?”

“If the hangover is anything to go by,” Cas tells him. “I really am sorry.”

“Nah, I’m glad you did,” Dean shrugs, accepting the steaming cup of coffee that Cas hands him. Cas looks at him questioningly, head tilted to one side. “I just – I mean if something _was_ wrong, if you were in trouble or whatever, I’d want you to tell me. I’d wanna know.”

“Even now?” Cas asks him quietly.

“ _God_ , Cas, of _course_. You think I stopped caring when I moved out? Jesus, if only.”

“What does that mean?”

“I just mean – I don’t want us not to talk, alright? I don’t like not knowing how you are, if you’re doin’ ok. I’m glad you texted me, even if it was just a stupid drunken moment of weakness or whatever, because it means now I get to talk to you and tell you that I – that I miss talkin’ to you, or whatever.”

Cas smiles, ducking his head. “I miss talking to you, too.”

Dean huffs a laugh, watching Cas fondly. “Still can’t believe you drunk-texted me. What are you, twelve?”

“I don’t think many twelve year olds are getting drunk, Dean,” Cas tells him seriously.

Dean rolls his eyes exaggeratedly. “Good to see you’re still taking everythin’ I say literally.”

“Some things never change,” Cas grins, leaning back against the counter, feeling more relaxed now.

Talking to Dean has always had this effect on him, always calmed him like not much else can. Just being in the same room as him carries a sense of _home_ and Cas hasn’t been so comfortable in his own kitchen since the day Dean left.

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “Some things don’t change.”

Cas is quiet for a moment, watching Dean. He looks like he wants to say something else but it never comes so Cas speaks instead, quiet and tentative. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Dean grunts, looking away. “Good.”

 

Later, when they head back into the sitting room with their second cups of coffee, Dean notices the scarf on the side table and does a double take.

“That Sam’s?” he asks, head tilted.

Cas ducks his head, blushing. “I kept meaning to call him to tell him it’s still here, but I was kind of hoping you would notice it was gone and come and get it.”

Dean smirks at him, leaning back on the couch. “That so?”

 

Dean leaves after another hour or so and Cas feels warm from the time they’d spent together. They just talked, caught up a little, made sure the other was generally ok, no family members lost, work still going good. When Dean is gone, something red catches Cas’ eye. Sam’s scarf is sitting half stuffed down beside the couch cushions. He stares at it, eyes wide.

When his phone goes off, he has a hard time holding back his smile at Dean’s message:

_Oh wouldya look at that. Seems I forgot the damn scarf. Might just have to pop ‘round soon and pick it up for Sam, I’m sure he’s missin’ it. See you soon ;)_


End file.
